


Health running low, and so is my patience

by BlooBlu



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Chickens, Gen, Haha this is an excuse to make Virgil take care of himself, I Don't Even Know, Insomnia, Just me trying to take care of my boy, Orange juice - Freeform, Oranges, Video Game Mechanics, thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlooBlu/pseuds/BlooBlu
Summary: Uh. I stole this prompt off of tumblr tbh."One morning, when you wake up, you see something in the corner of your eye. You spot a health bar and it's... very, very low."
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	Health running low, and so is my patience

Virgil, contrary to what his parents would tell you, actually sleeps very little.

In fact, it's very rare that he wakes up after the sun does, and if he is asleep later than that it's likely because he had been awake the last 48-72 hours.

So no, he does not know _exactly_ when this… health meter? Showed up. He knows it wasn't there when he passed out, and he at least didn't notice it until he'd been awake for an hour or two. It's actually pretty faint, and only looks bright enough to read when he focuses on it directly - otherwise it stays just in the lower left corner of his peripheral vision. It's a pretty standard, box-shaped health bar that you'd seen in any mmo, though a bit slanted at both ends. His full name rests in small, blocky print just above it, "Virgil Ester Sanders."

Once he realized that this _probably_ wasn't a hallucination, his second concern was how _low_ the bar was. At first glance the bar looked about a quarter full, the green far outmatched by the empty. And upon closer inspection, there was more text in the same font as his name: "27/100 hp."

...That can't be good.

. . .

Okay, so maybe he isn't the _pinnacle_ of health, he can admit that. He doesn't eat the right number of times in a day, and when he does it's usually the junkiest snack food he can sneak out of his room to steal and run back into hiding.

He does some yoga, for stress, but that's hardly rigorous exercise. He's more pent up stress and dread than water, at this point.

But he didn't think he was this bad. Seriously, 27 out of 100? He'd be spamming health potions by now if this was a real game, or would just log out period.

...Would taking some kind of medicine help? Or if he wrapped himself in bandages like a mummy?

Does this function work like an actual game mechanic? Should he eat, or sleep or... fight... something-

No! No, this is fucking ridiculous. He's gotta be dreaming, or there's some- some weird glare affect in his room right now, just light reflecting off of a mirror-

"Virgil, I know you're probably still asleep but this is the time when normal humans wake up, so if you wanna have breakfast with us, it'll be ready soon."

"Uh... sure, mama! I'll be out in a few minutes."

Well, at least he can try all of the basic stuff first. If he's going to accept this is real, then there should be ways to fix this, or (hopefully) get rid of the stupid meter entirely.

...What happens if the meter reaches 0?

He won't actually die, right? That'd be stupid. It's probably just a measure of his overall wellbeing or something.

Still, he'll likely be better off trying to make the bar increase first, so he'll try all the stuff that normally gives you back health or energy in actual games. Eating, shower, rest, medicine, (if it gets to that) and whatever else comes to mind later. Maybe this is just the universe telling him to take better care of himself, and when the meter reaches 100/100 it'll go away.

. . .

"I'm surprised, Virgil! I don't think we've had breakfast together like this in weeks, you're always locked in your room until noon-"

"Honey, he's out here with us now, that's what matters."

"Of course!"

"...yeah, thanks for the great reception......"

Breakfast is honestly a pretty quiet affair, but that's because mom's pancakes are the literal best food on this planet, and mama's orange trees gave some really good fruit this year, so they've made... a lot of orange juice. Like, the bottom half of their fridge is nothing but pitchers of orange juice, which leaves not a lot of room for anything else, especially with the eggs too. They have a small coop with 5 hens, and while they are all obstinate, hissy-fit throwing little divas, they do produce a lot of eggs, so much that they have to sell some to their neighbors just so it won't be going to waste.

Glancing down at his… health bar, Virgil was relieved to see it now sitting at 30/100. So, breakfast had definitely helped. Next would be a shower, since he probably wouldn't be able to sleep until tonight at the least. That'd give him all day to try other stuff, though.

. . .

The shower had given him exactly 2 points, and while Virgil was glad to be making progress at all, he was also getting kinda frustrated. Two out of his three big ideas had given him a whopping 5 points total, so a decent night of sleep had better bump it up by like 50 or he's going to hit something.

"Mom, don't you have some kind of like, herbal tea around somewhere? For healing and things like that."

"I do. Do you want to make some?"

"Yeah. Preferably… immune-boosting types, or whatever."

"Oh, are you getting sick? You should have told me, I could make chicken soup, or some nice broth-"

"No no, I'm not… I'm not sick, I just… think I could have some healthier habits, I guess…"

"...alright, then. We'll make some tea for now, but if I hear so much as a sneeze-"

"Yeah yeah, you'll tie me to the bed and give me that god awful cold and flu solution from grandma. You know, I'm pretty sure that's just a hangover cure."

"How would you know? Have you ever had a hangover? Young man-"

. . .

"This is so _gross_! How do you even drink it?"

"Healthy foods tend to be an acquired taste, especially when you tend to live off of chips and salsa, Virgil."

"Look, it was _one time,_ you two hadn't been eating any of it and I didn't realize I'd eaten the whole jar by myself, okay!"

Mom doesn't have a retort for that, apparently, because she simply pours herself another cup and leaves the kitchen with a nod.

The tea _is_ pretty disgusting, but he forces himself to finish his cup, before looking down to check the meter.

"31/100"

_THAT MADE HIM LOSE A POINT!?_

. . . 

This whole... situation is getting kinda stressful. Well, there is no "kinda" when it comes to Virgil and stress, but he's come to learn the difference between anxiety that is stagnant, and anxiety that's going to keep growing over time.

For now, he feels a lingering, but consistent amount of dread, so it's not as bad as it could be.

Still, he decides to take some time to lock himself in his room and follow a few yoga sessions on his phone.

He wouldn't call himself an expert or anything, but the "beginner" and "intermediate" exercises don't provide the same amount of relaxation they used to. It's easier to distract himself with the practices if he can feel a bit of a burn with it.

Sometimes he surprises others with his flexibility, though.

Virgil can't count the number of times he's dropped something that rolled under the fridge or a low table, and he'd drop into a full split because squatting is harder to get up from. His mama dropped her mug, the first time he did this in front of her.

As the video begins, Virgil finds himself getting into the swing of things and forgets about everything that's happened today. Because right now, all that exists is him, the screen, and the voice of a woman calmly guiding him through some stretches, before they get to the real work. When his feet go over his head it can make his balance feel off at first, but as always he gets used to it just a little before they move on to the next pose.

. . .

When he's settling in for bed that night, he makes sure to leave his phone and laptop on the other side of the room. If he can't be bothered to get up and grab them, then he won't have anything keeping him awake, right?

Well... It made sense in his head, but now he's lying awake, staring at his alarm clock. He never even sets alarms on it, but it doubles as a radio so he keeps it around. It's only 11:32pm, but he should be asleep by now, right? He's been laying there for literal hours. Okay, almost two hours.

It's much harder to ignore the little health meter in near pitch darkness, so he studies it more than anything else. It's gone up to 44/100, which is good. But it's still not _great,_ really. That's still below halfway. Maybe he really _is_ getting sick, and that's why it's so low- or maybe he has an undetectable terminal illness that no one knows about and he's going to die in his sleep-

Thought spirals! That's- that's a thing. Right? He's read that somewhere? He's getting too- too caught up in one bad train of thought that leads to another and another and-

Just! Stop! Thinking! 

That's what he needs right now, to not- 

. . .

...he doesn't know when he fell asleep.

All Virgil knows is that he must have passed out sometime, because now he's waking up, and it's light outside. Definitely day time, and (probably) before noon. The sky is a bright blue, and he can't see the sun from his window, though his window faces west, so that's not saying much.

His room is still fairly dark, though, because at some point someone closed the curtains most of the way.

So the bright green light in the corner of his vison is very noticeable, and much, _much_ bigger than it was yesterday. It looks almost all the way full, in fact. And coincidentally, he _does_ feel much better than usual. 

Virgil can't even remember the last time he was conscious without at least a budding headache forming in the back of his brain, and yet here he is. Head clear, and a lot lighter than he remembers it being.

He's still sore from sleeping a little awkwardly, and he is... uncharacteristically hungry, but otherwise this is the best he's felt in forever. Is this what sleep is supposed to be like?

Squinting a little harder at the meter he has steadily grown used to, he notices the numbers are, in fact, very high. 92/100. That's like... almost perfect?

...He wonders what will happen when it finally gets to 100/100. Because he is _definitely_ going to get it there, through hard work or dark magic.

It's just a matter of effort, and maybe some stupid luck.


End file.
